THE duty has fallen to me of conveying to Sigmund Freud on the occasion of his seventieth birthday the greetings and warm congratulations of this Journal. To fulfil this honourable task is no easy matter. Freud is far too outstanding a figure for one who belongs to the circle of his followers and fellow-workers to be able to estimate him in comparison with other great personalities in the evolution of human culture and describe him in relation to his contemporaries. Moreover, his work speaks for itself; it needs no commentary, far less any eulogy. The creator of a science that is austerely honest and wages war on all hypocrisy would certainly dislike the dithyrambs with which it is customary on such occasions to acclaim the leader of a great movement. An objective description of his life-work, however—an enticing theme for an enthusiastic disciple—is superfluous, since the master himself has devoted to this subject more than one essay which for detached and concrete presentation could not be surpassed. He has never withheld from publicity anything that he knows about the origin of his ideas; he has spoken frankly and fully about the vicissitudes his views have undergone and about the attitude of the present generation towards them. So far as his personality is concerned, he has completely taken the wind out of the sails of that modern method of enquiry which attempts to gain fresh insight into the development of a scientist’s views by studying the intimate details of his private life. In his The Interpretation of Dreams and Psychopathology of Everyday Life Freud has undertaken this task himself in a way that was previously unknown, and has not only indicated new lines of research for an enquiry of this kind, but given for all time an example of a candour quite ruthless towards himself He has also revealed unhesitatingly the ‘secrets of the laboratory’, and the inevitable vacillations and uncertainties that usually are so carefully kept hidden.
This being so, the most logical course would be for us to forego any kind of demonstration. I am well aware that it would best please the master if we went on quietly with our work without concerning ourselves with arbitrary periods of time and dates that in themselves mean nothing. We, his pupils, have learnt from Freud himself that all modern celebrations are tributes offered in an exalted mood that give expression only to one side of an emotional impulse. It has not always been as now; there was a time when the hostile attitude against the man who had been raised to the throne was not dissembled either. It was Freud who taught us that the most highly honoured figure is regarded even to-day, though it be only unconsciously, with hate as well as love.
In spite of all this, we cannot resist the temptation to bow to convention by way of exception, against our better judgement, and make his birthday the occasion of expressly dedicating to our ‘Director’ this issue of the Journal, and also the issues of the Zeitschrift and Imago which make their appearance at the same time. Anyone who glances through the annual volumes of these periodicals will at once see, however, that every one of the previous numbers has in reality been dedicated to him; the contents of these volumes, apart from what the master himself has contributed, have been simply a continuation, confirmation, or valuation of his teaching. The present issues therefore, though more ceremonious than usual, do not differ essentially from any of their predecessors; his fellow-workers are merely represented in them in rather more imposing numbers. But instead of inditing a formal introduction to these contributions, I intend to allow myself to set down in an unconnected sequence, as in free association, the feelings and thoughts that naturally arise in me on this occasion. I can take it for granted that these thoughts will be common to many of those who are engaged in the same pursuit.
In a paper in which I once attempted to form an estimate of Freud’s Three Contributions to the Theory of Sexuality,1 I stated my conclusion that this work was one of epoch-making importance in the evolution of science; it demolished the boundary wall between mental and natural science. In another paper I described Freud’s discovery and exploration of the unconscious as a step forward in human progress, as the first time of functioning of a new sense-organ. One may be disposed to dismiss these assertions forthwith as the exaggerations and uncritical utterances of an enthusiastic disciple; the fact remains that they were not the outcome of any mood of jubilation, but were logical deductions based on a long series of new accessions to knowledge.
Whether and when my prediction will be fulfilled, whether a time will come when the whole world will speak of a pre-Freudian and a post-Freudian epoch, I cannot of course say; it is twenty years now since I followed in his footsteps, and this conviction has not changed in the least. Certain it is that the life of a psycho-neurologist who has had the good fortune to be a contemporary of Freud’s, and, better still, to recognize his importance early in his career, is divided into pre-Freudian and post-Freudian periods—two stages that stand in sharpest contrast to one another. In my own case at least, neurological work before Freud, apart from observations on the nerve fibres, which were interesting enough on occasion, was a matter of histrionics, a perpetual profession of friendliness and knowledge to hundreds of neurotic patients whose symptoms were not in the least understood. One was ashamed—at any rate I was—to accept payment for this performance. Even to-day we cannot cure everyone, but we can assuredly help many; and even when we are unsuccessful there remains the mitigating consideration that we have honestly endeavoured to gain knowledge of the neurosis by scientific methods, and can understand why it is impossible to help. We are exempted from the sorry task of promising comfort and aid with an air of professional omniscience; indeed we have finally and completely lost our skill in this art. Psychiatry, which was formerly a museum of abnormalities before which we stood in uncomprehending amazement, has become through Freud’s discoveries a fertile field of scientific research, susceptible of coherent comprehension. Is it an exaggeration, then, to assert that Freud has added lustre and honour to our calling? And is it not to be expected that we should be filled with lasting gratitude towards the man whose work has made this possible? It may be a conventional formality to celebrate seventieth or eightieth birthdays, but for Freud’s followers such a day is undoubtedly merely an opportunity of giving expression for once to feelings they have long cherished. Would it not be making a concession to the spirit of the age, which is inclined to be so shamefaced in the matter of emotional expression, if we continually suppressed these feelings? We prefer to follow the example of antiquity, and without shame to offer our master for once our open and hearty thanks for all he has bestowed on us.
The day is not far distant when the whole medical profession will recognize that not only psychiatrists and neurologists, but all who are concerned with the cure of disease have ample cause to share in these admittedly lyrical expressions of feeling. The knowledge of the part played in every kind of therapy by the mental relation of the patient to the physician and the possibility of systematically turning this to good account will gradually become the common possession of all medical men. The science of medicine, at present disintegrated by specialization, will once more be restored to unity. The physician will no longer be a dry technician of the laboratory and the dissecting-room; he will be a connoisseur of humanity in both health and sickness, a counsellor to whom everyone will turn with a well-founded hope of understanding and of possible succour.
But signs are multiplying that the physician of the future will be able to count on much greater respect and recognition not only from his patients, but from the whole of society. The ethnologist and the sociologist, the historian and the statesman, the aesthete and the philologist, the pedagogue and the criminologist have even now to turn for confirmation to the physician as the expert in the human soul, if they wish to base their special departments of study, which must ultimately rest in part on psychology, on a more secure foundation than the uncertain ground of arbitrary assumptions. There was once before a time when the physician was respected as a man of science; he it was who was highly versed in knowledge of all plants and animals and the properties of the ‘elements’, so far as they were then known. I venture to predict the approach of a similar age—an age of ‘iatro-philosophy’, the foundation stone of which has been laid by the work of Freud. Nor has Freud waited to advance in this direction until all the different schools became conversant with psycho-analysis. Compelled, with the aid of psycho-analysis alone, himself to solve problems connected with allied sciences which he encountered in dealing with nervous patients, he wrote his Totem and Taboo, a work that laid down new lines of approach in ethnology; while the sociology of the future will find his Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego indispensable. His book on Jokes is the first attempt to construct a system of aesthetics on a psychological basis, and he has furnished innumerable suggestions relating to possibilities of progressive work in the domain of educational science.
As for the debt that psychology owes to psycho-analysis, the readers of this Journal will hardly require me to waste many words on that. Is it not the fact that before the advent of Freud all scientific psychology was, in essence, merely a refined physiology of sensation, while the complexities of our mental life remained the undisputed territory of belles lettres? And was it not Freud who, by creating a theory of the instincts, by inaugurating a psychology of the ego, and by constructing a serviceable scheme of metapsychology, first raised psychology to the level of a science?
This enumeration of achievements, which is by no means complete, is enough to convince the most sceptical that not only his followers and his professional associates, but the whole learned world, have cause to rejoice that the master has reached his seventieth birthday in the full possession of his powers, and to wish that he may long be spared to carry on his great work.
‘So we are only to hear panegyrics after all,’ many will be thinking; ‘what has become of the frankness we were promised about the difficulties and the disputes between the master and his disciples?’ It is my duty, therefore, to add a few sentences on this topic, although I do not find it pleasant to come forward, so to speak, as a witness for the Crown, in connexion with incidents which, while they are not without interest, are certainly very painful to all concerned. Let me say then that there is scarcely one of us who has not had to listen occasionally to hints and exhortations from the master which sometimes destroyed magnificent illusions and at the moment of first hearing gave rise to a sense of injury and depreciation. At the same time I must testify that Freud often gives us perfect liberty for a long while, and allows great latitude to individual idiosyncrasies, before he decides to interpose as a moderating influence, or to make decisive use of the means of defence at his command; he resorts to the latter course only when he is convinced that compliance would imperil the cause that to him is more important than anything else. Here he certainly admits of no compromise, and is ready to sacrifice, even though with heavy heart, personal ties and hopes that have become dear to him. In these things he is as severe towards himself as towards another. He watched with sympathetic interest one of his most gifted scholars developing along his own lines, until the latter advanced the claim that he could account for everything with his ‘élan vital’. Once several years ago I myself came forward with the theory that all could be explained by a death-instinct. Freud’s verdict was not favourable to the idea, and my faith in him enabled me to bow to his judgement; then one day there appeared Beyond the Pleasure Principle, in which his theory of the interplay of death-instincts and life-instincts does far more justice to the manifold facts of psychology and biology than my one-sided conception could do. The idea of organic inferiority interested him as a very promising beginning for the somatic foundation of psycho-analysis. For years he accepted its author’s rather peculiar mode of thought as part of the bargain; but when it became clear that the latter was using psycho-analysis simply as a springboard for a teleological philosophy, Freud relinquished all collaboration with him. For a long time he overlooked even the scientific gambols of one of his followers, because he recognized his acute sense for sexual symbolism. The great majority of his adherents, however, have overcome the sensitiveness that is inevitable in this situation, and are convinced that all their legitimate personal efforts will sooner or later be accorded a place in Freudian psycho-analysis.
The exclusiveness of our professional interests should not prevent us on such a day from keeping in mind, also, the feelings of those who stand personally nearest to Freud, of his family above all, among whom Freud lives and works as a human being and not as a mythical figure, who guard with such solicitude a health so precious to us all, and to whom we owe so great a debt of gratitude for their care. The wide circle of sick people who have been treated by this method, and through it have found once more the strength to live, will also join with us in celebrating this memorable day; and not less that still wider circle of sufferers who had kept their health, yet from whom Freud’s knowledge has lifted a burden needlessly borne.
Psycho-analysis works ultimately through the deepening and enlargement of knowledge; but, as I have attempted to show in a paper that appears in the following pages, knowledge can be enlarged and deepened only by love. The fact that Freud has succeeded in schooling us to endure more of the truth would alone ensure him the love with which a large and not unworthy section of humanity are thinking of him to-day.